


2030: A Time Traveler's Husband

by godtierfics (godtiercomplex)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Death, F/M, So Nikita walks into HQ and blows it up right, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, there's a minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiercomplex/pseuds/godtierfics
Summary: She jumps without even letting him say goodbye.Yao starts and Alfred stirs out of his stupor, and they both ask, “Where did she go? What is she doing?” as two phones ring out in unison with an emergency alert.June 10th, 2025 at 13:00 Kiku’s phone alert merely saysWanted Nikita Dragowski for bombing of TPD HQ. All personnel report any sightings past/future/present.





	2030: A Time Traveler's Husband

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy my highly self indulgent BelaPan fanfic featuring time traveling and meeting up in secret. 
> 
> Character names:  
> Belarus: Nikita Dragowski  
> Ukraine: Sofiya  
> Monaco: Aurelia

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Mr. Honda.” 

Kiku just gives a small nod of his head, and lets the almost sickeningly sweet scent of her perfume press against his head as she settles next to him and lays her chips down on the table. The Las Vegas dealer counts her in. She smiles, a tight thing, barely a thought before for a moment it softens as he speaks. “My business takes me where it does, Ms. Nikita.”

“I trust I’m not your business this evening.” Her long silver blond hair is caught up with pins, tangled into an arching bun that is crowned with a snowflake pendant. She stole that from the tsar’s wife in 1680. 

He looks back down at the cards that the dealer is shuffling, and pushes more chips into the pool. “You’re not, Ms. Nikita. But... I cannot promise that you’ve not caught someone’s eye.” 

A hand to his elbow and he looks up into those clear blue eyes, and (they remind him so much of another blond with blue eyes and he _need not think of that man right now_ ) she looks upset. Her face is clear of all emotion, but from the tightening of her blue painted nails on his black suit, he knows she is upset. 

“Whose eye?” 

Kiku sighs, and says quietly, almost desperately, “The commander’s eye. Take care.”

“Well, it was only a matter of time till he came looking for me…” Nikita whispers that, and then leans forward, letting her breasts threaten to spill out, and asks, eyes on the money she’s winning, eyes on the money he’s losing, “Is it just him?” 

“You know I can’t say.” 

“You can. You just won’t, hm?” 

He says nothing, and she leans back up, collects her winnings, and walks away. On the table where she stood is a simple blue card hand crafted into the petals of a cornflower. Penned in black ink is simply a room and time an hour for now. It is July 5th, 2022. 

Kiku adds it to his growing collection. 

 

It would be polite to say that he and Alfred broke each other’s hearts. It would be impolite to suggest that Alfred moved on way too soon, and way too fast into the bed of his elder brother. It would be rude to bring that to attention. So Kiku doesn’t.

That doesn’t mean others do not sometimes feel the need to be rude when their squad is having drinks at a bar in southern France in 1868. Francis picked the bar, since he (said with a wink) knows the owner. 

“Sometimes feels like he’s trying to bed all of your family, huh?” An impolite, rude, overly drunk blond man (with green eyes not blue) feels the need to say that directly to Kiku. Kiku grips his ale, and says nothing. Arthur continues, because while Arthur is many things, polite is not one of them. It’s a trait his younger relative has also failed to grasp. “Didn’t he just shack up with Mei a few years ago? At least we can say he’s consistent!” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Kiku says. It’s not a lie, because as far as he knows Alfred couldn’t have shacked up with Mei a few years prior because they were together. Alfred is many things, a cheater is not one of them. “But yes, he is consistent. I believe you might have had enough, Kirkland.”

“Hardly,” Arthur says. He stumbles back up and goes to the bar. Ivan slides into his unoccupied seat and Sofiya follows him. They’re both in black. They’ve been in mourning for 5 years, 11 months, and 25 days. 

“Wang mentioned you might have seen my baby sister, Honda.” 

Kiku takes a slow sip of his ale, and glances over at his brother holding court with Alfred by his side. He sold him out to gain peace for a moment. The traitor. 

Ivan is silent, waiting, but Sofiya speaks up, a quiet plea of a heartbroken sister… a mother who raised both of her siblings, and asks, “Have you seen her?” 

Kiku hates lying to her. He hates that Nikita has put him in such a position. “It’s hard to say.” 

“What do you mean?” Ivan asks. “You either saw her… or you have not. Yes or no?” 

Kiku sips more ale, and feels the weight of the chains of fate gripping him tighter. 

“I can’t say which _her_ I saw. She was… she was still,” he trails off, and Ivan sighs, and Sofiya presses a hand to her cheek and he has to tell them something, even if it’s a lie. “She was still one of us. So… I think it was before she…” 

“Thank you…” Sofiya says. She taps a hand to Ivan’s shoulder and they both stand up. Black shadows against the brightness of the bar, looking for a girl— a woman who does not want to be found. Nikita does not want to be caught. 

Except, the chain around his neck, ring against his chest, says otherwise. 

 

 

One night after heavy drinking, he wakes up with Nikita Dragowski on his chest, and a ring on his finger that wasn’t there last night. According to his watch it is July 5th, 2030. They are in Las Vegas, America. He hasn’t slipped into the time stream during a dream. But… 

Nikita is in his bed, in the hotel room that he booked to join in the celebration for his best friend’s 30th birthday. In their field of work, birthdays aren’t much of anything. When you dance, snap, pop, jump from era to era, again and again, what does the future or past mean? Birthdays mean so little when you’ll live forever. 

But Alfred… he treasures each moment like it’s his last. He’s full of life, bursting at the seams with it. So, his birthday, July 4th, each year since they met at Academy has been nothing short of a spectacular event. 20 years of killer parties, and Kiku feels all 32 years of his age as Nikita shifts on his chest and reaches for the covers. She grabs something else, and that makes him make a protesting sound that has her looking up at him. 

She smiles at him, a slow, carefree thing, and presses a kiss to his chin. “Good morning, husband.” 

That solves two issues that he had, but now a host of others are coming to mind. He keeps his face calm, composed, because Honda men do not freak out. 

But the most pressing is, “You’re a wanted criminal, Ms. Dragowski.”

He does not say, doesn’t dream to ask, _Where have you been? Your family misses you, did you know that? Why did you blow up our headquarters?_

_Why did you leave me?_

“Why are you… here, Ms. Dragowski? Half the world is looking for you—”

“The last place they’ll look for me is here,” Nikita says. She gathers the sheet about her and steps down onto the floor. She doesn’t look back at him as she goes into the bathroom. He settles against the headboard, naked and waiting, questioning and wanting, until she comes back out with a black robe on, another one in hand that she tosses his way. He tugs it on and ties the robe closed as he just watches her pace his way. “Also, I’m not _Ms. Dragowski_ , am I? It’s Mrs. Honda now, Mr. Honda.” 

Hearing that they actually did get married last night so directly from Nikita is putting him in a rough spot. He’s happy, he’s wanted this for years, but not like this. Never like this. He has to report her, and yet she knows he never would. She’s made a mockery of him with this. Giving him what he’s wanted in such a cruel way, he ends up saying a cold, firm, “You’re not being fair.” 

Nikita tilts her head up high, and says, “You asked me to marry you once. Did you change your mind between then and now?” Kiku looks down at his lap as she settles on the edge of their bed. She waited for him to speak but, what can he say? 

“You asked me to marry you last night, have you changed your mind between then and now?”

“You killed our supervisors, Nikita. You’re wanted across the time stream. What do you think?”

She picks up his hand, and touches the ring on his finger. “That I could kill thousands, and you’d still love me.” 

He hates that she’s right. 

“Wherever… however I married you last night… it isn’t valid. You know that.” 

That’s one of the core rules of their business— romance can get you killed. No one really adheres to it, and dating happens constantly but marriage? Marriage is another story. Marriage can get you decommissioned. 

“I no longer work for the TPD. I blew up their headquarters, remember?” 

Kiku remembers. 

Nikita kisses his knuckles, and sadly says, “I have to go.” 

He catches her hand, and gives it a squeeze. “Ms. Drag— Ms. Nikita… Please, just… come back and face trial.” The insincerity of that request rings clear as day as she presses a kiss to his cheek, to his nose, to his lips. 

“I can’t afford to get caught.” With a soft brush of her hand against his face, she taps her watch and she’s gone. 

In the bathroom is a dying bouquet of flowers, a white dress, his black suit from last night, and a blue card on the mirror. It says _Egypt July 5th, 5500 BCE._

 

Temporal Protection Division, or the TPD recruits Kiku Honda out of high school. It makes sense. It makes his mother happy. 

It doesn’t make him happy. 

His older brother is an officer in the TPD. It just makes sense for him to join it as well. 

That’s what he keeps thinking up until orientation day where he meets the rest of his unit. There is Alfred and his twin brother Matthew, Feliciano, Aurelia, and Nikita. With Kiku that makes six total. They all came from TPD families. All of them are varying degrees of proud to serve, but all of them fully expected to serve. 

This is what they’d been born to do, after all, been told that they would do their entire lives.

Orientation is a simple test of their skills. They have to jump to a specified time and bring back something to show they’ve gone. 

His time and place is simple: May 8th, 1780, Russia. Bringing back an artifact isn’t hard. He wanders the streets for five minutes before buying a blue flower from a girl. He checks his watch and jumps back to the classroom. His instructor smiles and tucks it next to the other students prizes. Alfred’s is a teddy bear from the early 20th century. Matthew’s artifact is one of the first firecrackers produced in France. Feliciano was meant to grab an apple from India but sidetracked to 2nd century Egypt and has come back with a crown. Aurelia snapped a ribbon off of a young Queen Elizabeth’s head, and now it is proudly woven into her own braid. Nikita comes back with pearl earrings from Persia and lays them softly on the desk with the rest of the artifacts. 

“Why are we stealing from the past?” she asks. “Isn’t that forbidden?” 

Their instructor looks at her, then at all of them, and says, “You steal now so that you have it out of your systems. From here out… you shall be enforcers. You will hunt down and stop those who would destroy all that we have worked to establish.”

They all take their seats in that worn down classroom in the heart of Paris, and listen as he walked to a blackboard and starts to write in chalk. “There are many rules that our units must follow… but keep these three in mind. First; sanctity of the timeline is our priority. Paradoxes will not be tolerated. Second; from here out your fellow squad members are your family. Your partner is your second arm. Take care of each other. Third, and last; we are enforcers, we are not thieves, and we are not destroyers. If your actions threaten the current timeline… you will be decommissioned. Your memory will be lost to the time stream.” 

All he writes on the board is _Temporal Protection Division Unit 7886–2010._

“What does decommissioned mean, sir?” Alfred asks. 

_“Everything about you will be erased._ ” The instructor’s voice is hard, heavy as he said it. “So don’t do anything decommission worthy, Unit 7886. Keep in mind what we’re here to do. Maintain Sanctity. Create Order. Enforce Harmony. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

It takes many more months of training for Kiku to find out what exactly is decommission worthy. 

 

Their first date goes like this. 

Alfred is Kiku’s partner but Alfred is helping Matthew since Aurelia is out sick and Feliciano does not feel comfortable hunting down the German thieving duo by himself. Nikita refuses to go with the rest of their unit, so Kiku stays with her to be polite (and out of concern for the hacking Aurelia). It’s been four hours since the three men left, and Kiku is worried, but he’s hiding it well. After all, he shouldn’t feel worried. Kiku and Alfred broke up nearly a month ago. It was never a serious relationship, and he shouldn’t be hurt afterward about it. It’s stupid. But he’s worrying, and it’s because the two Germans are rumored to be extremely violent. He’s also worried for Feli and Matthew. He—they should be out there with their partners, but Nikita disagrees, so here at the unit house, he is. 

“We all can’t afford to die out there,” she says. It is the summer of 2013 and in another few months, they will be turned loose on the world, allowed to hunt without a partner, and most importantly allowed to hunt from the main TPD’s bulletin board of wanted criminals. The Germans can’t be so bad since they’re on the list for cadets. He needs to relax. 

So he turns to his gaming systems. Alfred had convinced him to set them up in the main room four months ago and he has yet to move them back to his room. (He is glad that the Academy does not insist partners share a room. He doesn’t think he could stomach it in the aftermath of their failed relationship. He should have known not to date his partner. He was such a fool.)

As the game’s music rings out in the room, he notices Nikita turning to look from him to the screen instead of studying her tablet. Within another handful of minutes she has moved to the couch next to her, has tucked her feet underneath her skirt and demands that he, “Give me the blue controller.” 

He doesn’t say that it is Alfred’s favorite. He hands it over and let her pick out her players and then their battlefield. 

What he does ask is, “Have you played before?”

“Some. With the twins and Aurelia. He is… neither of them are as good as he thinks he is. Aurelia is better.” There is an unspoken _but not good enough_ that follows her silence. The opening countdown begins and she flashes him a shark’s grin. “Let’s see if you are as good as you think, hm?” 

By the end of the first round, he is staring (glaring at her), “You said you played a little, Dragowski.” 

“Are you crying because you lost? That doesn’t seem like you, Honda.” Her teeth flash and she runs fingers through her hair, smoothing it out so it barely grazes the ground as she leans back with a _pop_ and then looks at him. “Would you like a rematch then?” 

Honda men are nice to women, and he knows that, and still, he wants nothing more than to distract himself with needless violence while the rest of his unit, his family, is out there on the battlefield. 

He hits the option for rematch and loses again and again. The hours keep ticking by one by one with no sign or word from the rest of their squad. 

“I have to get Aurelia water,” Nikita says just past midnight. She does not seem to have much on her mind about the wellbeing of Matthew, her assigned partner. She goes into the kitchen and he pops one more button on his shirt. They have been at it for so long that he is sweating. “Do you drink, Honda?” 

He doesn’t get to reply before she taps a cold beer (one of her favorites) to his cheek and walks up the steps to Aurelia’s room. There is the gentle buzz of conversation, and then Nikita comes back down. 

“You are not drinking?” 

“I’d rather not lose my edge, Dragowski.” 

“You have an edge?” She looks at him over the top of her beer can, and takes a deep sip. He watches her swallow, and she tilts her head to the screen where it shows how ultimately she’s won 4 out of 5 matches. He’d barely managed to win that 3rd round. At 1 out of 5 matches, he doesn’t know why he’s still trying. But, there’s just something about watching her play that catches his attention. Unlike the others, she doesn’t celebrate her victories with more than a grin, there’s no loud _Ya-HOO!_ or a softer but still disturbing _Suck on that!._ She has been taught—like him—to be silent with her victories, to gloat without causing offense. And because he knows the tricks well… it angers him. She’s wearing a mask, has been wearing a mask for three years, and it’s just not fair that only now he’s getting to see the real her. 

“You’re not being fair,” Kiku says. It’s the first time he says it to her, and she pauses in the middle of raising her beer to her lips. 

Her blue eyes are so deep, so dark, that they remind him of ice, of the stormy oceans of the north. Her face has been carved from stone, all sharp angles, but with a touch of grace, a softness to it that he rarely has seen. It’s hard right now, looking at her with her hair down from its usual ponytail to see her as anything but a young woman, just like he is still a young man. The cadets uniforms leave nothing to the imagination. You fade into the green and black and you exist for the sanctity of Time. 

But now, Nikita is just herself. Her hair is down, a headband keeping her fringe off of her face. She’s wearing a white dress that’s just a size too big, and she has to keep adjusting the sleeves to keep it from slipping downward. It’s an old dress—with what the cadets allowance is, he knows she can afford better fitting clothes. But… she’s chosen to wear this dress in particular. A gift, he figures, though an odd one at that. 

“Because I’ve beaten you this many times? You are a baby if this is not fair to you. The better player wins, is that not right Honda?” 

He pauses, and opens up the beer she handed him. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“You are such a strange, little man,” she says. She settles back down on the couch, and he catches a flash of soft flesh in the span between her white socks and the dress’s edge. For a hysterical moment, he almost assigns her a zettai ryoiki grade before taking a big sip of the beer. He promptly chokes, and she pats his back, saying, “You are a baby if you cannot handle this.” Between the skirt and her socks, he mentally assigns her a grade B. Barely passing. 

“Pardon me for not drinking from childhood,” he snaps. Europeans, he’s found, especially the ones in the north and west can drink liquor like water. They like to judge him for not having the same… appetite, but it’s not his fault he has no interest in it. He’s seen the harm alcohol can do to a man. Then quickly guilt sets in and he rushes to say, “I apologi—.”

“It is rare to see you angry.” Her hand is still on his back and he looks at her and just waits. “Very good, Kiko.” Her voice is soft, hardly mocking. Just sincere as she looks at him. He looks at her, and then back at the game.

“Do you think they’re safe?” 

“It is Alf and Mattieu. They are safe. They also are keeping Feliciano safe for Aurelia. Have trust in our friends, Honda.”

Kiku sighs. And maybe it’s because they’re going on a full day with no rest, but he relaxes against her hand, and quietly says, “You can call me ‘Kiku,’ Dragowski.” 

“It’s ‘Nikita,’ Kiko,” she says.

They sit in the sound of the game on pause and talk until he falls asleep and then she does as well. When dawn comes and with it their loud friends returned safely, a little battered, a little bloodied, but alive, he just waves at them from the comfort of the pillow of her thighs before going back to sleep. 

 

It’s a year after their graduation when he runs into Nikita in Tokyo. It’s 1995. A time criminal is doing petty crimes that according to his information turn into bigger crimes. If not stopped, his thievery goes from anime figurines to full blown domestic terrorism in 2015. Watanabe Makoto found out he could slip into the time stream, and his current self is content with toys. His older self is not. It is today that his older self will make contact and radicalize his younger self. The mission is to simply shoot to kill and bring the body back so he can be decommissioned. 

Paradoxes will not be allowed. 

So that’s why he’s shocked to see Nikita, his Nikita, his friend, his… ally, talking to herself in the middle of a crowded Shibuya. He cannot move, as he watches them press their foreheads together, before one of the Nikitas turns around and disappears. His (?) Nikita for she is dressed in her typical blue dress, her hair long and flowing, frowns. She looks up and sees him. 

Is that pain on her face? 

She points over at a nearby cafe and he follows her. 

She’s gotten them a table, and he slides in across from her. 

“Will you tell HQ?” she asks. 

Kiku should. He wants to. 

He won’t. 

“No. But… why were you…”

“I can’t tell you.” She looks down at the menu. “I want to contain this problem. I want to fix this paradox.” 

“You know that’s impossible. Paradoxes are like infections. If you don’t report it… we won’t be able to stop it.” Kiku doesn’t say, _You know they’ll decommission you if they find out you didn’t say anything._ He doesn’t add, doesn’t say, _I can’t stand the thought that I could lose you, too._ Their unit has already lost Feliciano. He’s been missing for six months now. Aurelia is beside herself, and no one knows where he could be. The TPD HQ only has a shot on sight command. If they, when they find Feli, that will mean his end. 

Why is everything going wrong? 

“Isn’t it funny that we have to enforce harmony? I can understand the first two parts of our pledge but… why enforce harmony? If we force it it’s not harmony, right?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but just stares at her. The waitress comes and brings two waters, and asks if they want anything. He fakes a smile and picks a random item off of the menu. Nikita orders a float. When the waitress leaves, Nikita is staring at him and sighing. 

“I shouldn’t trust anyone, Kiko. But I trust you. It’s strange how much I trust you.” 

“I want you to trust me. We’re friends, aren’t we, Nikita?” 

She sets down her menu, places one of her hands on top of his, squeezes it as he turns his hand over so they’re palm to palm. “I have never wanted to be just your friend, Kiko.” 

He understands what she means, just in feeling how much her hand is shaking with nerves, and how focused her eyes are on him. 

He understands completely. 

 

Yao is afraid. It’s not a good look on his brother—Kiku’s used to him being all composed and steady. A distant figure to catch up to rather than a gentle, kind face to give him greetings. 

But Yao is in his apartment, sitting on his floor, and picking at his jeans. His standard issue hunter jacket is carelessly draped around his shoulders—only it doesn’t say Unit 7875-2007 on the breast pocket and shoulders. It says Unit 7886-2010 and the bullet hole just above the elbow is the same one he remembers having to dig out of Alfred’s arm in 1920 a few years ago when they were fresh out of Academy. 

Kiku settles the tea tray down, and his brother doesn’t touch his cup, but merely stares blankly down into it. 

Yao is a mess because he has no one else to talk to about his worry for Alfred being gone for so long. Many know that they are seeing each other, but only two people outside of them know that they have done something decommission worthy. A secret wedding six months ago. Alfred hasn’t been seen in two months. 

What pain must his brother be in to seek out his younger brother? 

It is June 10th, 2025 and they do not know where Alfred is. 

“He’ll come back to you,” Kiku finally says. Yao gives a quiet hum, an acknowledgement as he looks around the bare apartment. There’s no need to build up a nest of sentimentals when he’ll be moving on to the next time period or mission soon. The bare minimum is all he needs. Packing up is as simple as putting on his jacket and messenger bag. His entire life condensed. 

Yao’s life cannot be so neatly defined. He’s grown lax in his old age. Yao imagines he can set up and play house—Alfred encourages it. 

Maybe Kiku’s just bitter. 

Six months ago he and Nikita were Yao and Alfred’s only witnesses. Last week, he got a simple blue card from Nikita that only said _I’m sorry._

An answer to his marriage proposal in two words. 

Maybe he’s just jealous. 

Why does Yao get to have everything and he never can? 

(He’s sad too—Alfred’s his best friend. The best man he’s ever known, it’s just… funny. Funny, strange, how things worked out.) 

Marriage is frowned upon because it’s dangerous to form connections like that while in active duty. Marriage is frowned upon… because too many hunters have tried to change the timeline to bring back a dead spouse. 

It’s too risky. 

People would give anything to the Temporal gods to just hold a lost loved one again. Yao looks like he’s ready to sacrifice it all himself. Nearly 30 years of a career, gone for one man. 

This isn’t the brother he’s known his whole life. But there is one thing that Kiku does know, and that is Alfred. If Alfred said _Be back soon_ as Yao claims, then he will be back. Alfred is unstoppable and they both know that. 

Where did Alfred go that he would need to leave his unit jacket behind? 

They sit in silence, tea growing cold, as Yao just worries a hole in his jeans to death. There’s nothing else they can do until there is a sharp knock on the door. 

They both are silent, looking at each other. It could be a delivery. It could be TPD hunters coming to decommission Yao for his marriage to Alfred. Stop him before he goes back in time. They ready themselves for the worse. 

Yao pulls out his watch, a silver pocket watch with a dragon and phoenix twisted together on it. Alfred has a matching one. A gift exchanged at their wedding since rings were out of the question. 

Kiku picks up the gun on his countertop, half cleaned, but it will do the trick in case he has to keep his brother safe. He peers out the peephole. 

Alfred’s leaning heavily on Nikita’s shoulder, and she’s staring straight at him. Alfred is covered in blood—soaked with it. Is he dying? Why did she bring him here—?

He lets them both in, and doesn’t even get a chance to call out to Yao before he hears a swear and his brother is running to take Alfred from Nikita. By sheer luck, by sheer nerve he gets Alfred laid out on Kiku’s couch and demands a first aid kit—

“He doesn’t need first aid.” Both Yao and Kiku look at Nikita. “He just… he’s had a shock. He saw… we saw a lot.” 

“Where was he?” Yao says, and it almost sounds like _Thank you for bringing him home to me._ She shakes her head, touches a bloodied hand to Kiku’s shoulder and says, “We found Feliciano.” 

Kiku tries to flinch back, but Nikita won’t let him. He looks at her. 

“They’re going to decommission him.” She looks so heartsick and broken, and all he can think is about how at orientation they said that they were a family, and he never could’ve imagined this happening. She looks at Alfred and says, “We couldn’t save Aurelia…” 

“What happened out there?”

Nikita shakes her head and then takes his face in her hands and presses their foreheads together. “Ask me to marry you,” she says quietly, “Next time we meet… ask me and I’ll say yes, okay?” 

He looks into her eyes, sees how determined she is, and asks for the impossible. “Don’t go.” 

“I have to.” 

He can see Yao out of the corner of his eye, staring at them both, but sticking close to Alfred who is gripping his arm tightly. His friend is barely conscious and yet none of the blood is his own. There’s not a scratch on him. 

He focuses back on Nikita. This girl who has shared his bed, his nondescript apartments for 3 years now. Who has for the past two proposals said _Not now_. She’s… she can’t mean it, right? 

“Why?” And there’s so many whys all rolled into one and she answers each one with a kiss to his lips. He holds on tight to her waist as if that could hold her. It’s a foolish effort. 

“I love you, I love all of you so much, Kiku, that I have to try.” 

She jumps without even letting him say goodbye. 

Yao starts and Alfred stirs out of his stupor, and they both ask, “Where did she go? What is she doing?” as two phones ring out in unison with an emergency alert. 

June 10th, 2025 at 13:00 Kiku’s phone alert merely says _Wanted Nikita Dragowski for bombing of TPD HQ. All personnel report any sightings past/future/present._

 

He meets Ivan and Sofiya at Nikita’s funeral. The casket is empty but they want to mourn her before she’s found, before she’s decommissioned. Before they no longer remember her. Ivan is from the a class a year or two ahead of them, Sofiya is nearly 10 years his senior, close enough to be from the same era as Yao. They are hardened hunters, broken now by their sisters disappearance, her running from TPD. 

How can they stand here and bury her when she wants to live? 

“She spoke highly of you… called you a good man,” Ivan says afterwards. The grave is empty and yet they all stand around it, pretending that this matters. “Has she contacted you?” 

Kiku doesn’t know what to say. All his calls, texts, have come back as undeliverable. Wherever Nikita is, she doesn’t want to be contacted. He shakes his head no. 

Sofiya presses a hand to her lips, tears brimming at her eyes and yet not falling. “She told me that… she said she loved you. Please… if you see her before we do… tell her that we loved her.” 

Kiku looks at the tombstone, and says, “I’ll let her know… if I see her first.” 

They part ways and he goes back home to an empty apartment and sees the first of what will become many blue cornflower cards. 

_Paris November 10th, 2011_ it says along with a hotel room number and a time frame. 

There’s no signature, but he knows that handwriting. Has seen it scribbled upon grocery notes, on the edges of books, on his hand after their first date. 

Nikita has been in his apartment. 

Nikita is summoning him. 

He jumps. 

 

This is why Nikita did what she did. 

They have a beautiful view of the Arc de Triomphe as she tells him that she met herself from another timeline and found out what exactly the TPD does to maintain the timeline. About how it creates splinter timelines. About how it ends splinter timelines. 

“Enforcing harmony… that’s why I exist. This time space’s TPD enforcement caused our reality to collapse. I could only find solace by coming here,” Nikita, but not his Nikita, says. “I’m sorry for tricking you, Kiku… but I wanted to see you at least one last time. Next time you see your Nikita… ask her to marry you. If she agrees, then you’ll know we’re close to our goal. We’re nearly done with this work.” 

“I— none of this is what we learned in…” He stops himself. If what Nikita, this alternative self of his Nikita, is true, then the TPD’s enforcement wouldn’t be revealed so openly. After all, all that he does has been to maintain the current timeline. Of course there’s others—but he never thought about what would happen to those others once time fell apart completely. 

He never thought about all the lost lives to the process of the destruction of a doomed timeline. That in order to maintain the current, the main timeline, others had to be destroyed. Crossovers could not be allowed. Paradoxes weren’t caused by future and past selves interacting, but by alternative selves. 

Feliciano died for this. 

Nikita, all of her alternatives, are working to bring the reign of timeline terror to an end. 

He closes his eyes and asks, “What can I do to help?” 

Nikita smiles at him, and hands him a blue cornflower card. “Go to her.” 

 

Kiku and Yao are sitting in a bar in China in 2024. Yao is examining his glass as if wishing it would magically refill itself. Kiku waits for what he knows is coming. “I don’t know why I’ve been tasked with such… matters, but that is what has happened. They know.”

“Know what?” He feigns ignorance. 

Yao calls him on it with a sharp look. “I know she already told you. I know you already know. Let’s not play games, little brother. I have to make… I must keep up pretenses that I’m looking for her. So, have you seen her?” 

Kiku thinks of that hotel bedroom he just left. He thinks of the ring on his finger, a ring that Yao and Alfred cannot risk getting for one another. He looks at his own empty glass and calls for the bartender. As she refills it, Kiku says, “I married her.” 

Yao hisses in a deep breath, and mutters, “Fuck.” He asks the bartender to refill his glass as well. 

“Indeed,” Kiku says. 

“I can’t keep this job. I’m… going to retire. Alfred too. You should get out too.” 

“Alfred and I… we’re too young to retire. You can though.” Kiku really looks at his brother. Looks at the gray that’s just starting to color his long black hair, and then looks at the ring on his finger, on the watch on Yao’s hip. “Help me— help her. Help us, brother.” 

Yao sighs and mutters again, before speaking up. “I have this strange feeling that I will. That I did already.” 

Kiku feels it too. Changes have been made to the timeline. Nikita’s getting more reckless. He can remember watching her stab their division leader. He knows that this just happened yesterday. 

Yesterday was their wedding day. 

What more will she break? 

 

A sharp pain, and suddenly he’s forcibly summoned. 

Yao’s kneeling next to him, looking just as queasy as Kiku feels. Alfred’s there already, wiping at his face. 

Feliciano, long dead, is there, unmasked and standing next to a pair of long dead German brothers. Aurelia is there, sitting down on a chair, drinking water, a thin blanket around her shoulders. More people arrive, until it seems that despite no more being able to fit, space is expanding and more and more can fit. 

The commander of the TPD is standing in front of them. 

He doesn’t look happy as Nikita is sitting at his desk with an alternative Nikita behind her right shoulder. 

Ivan and Sofiya arrive and both take a step forward, but Nikita shakes her head. She looks determined. She looks tired. She is so beautiful. 

The commander scowls. His office no longer resembles office space, just a void. They are all standing in a deep void of space and time as the commander speaks. 

“As of November 10th, 2030, the Temporal Protection Division across all space time is…” As the commander speaks, the void shifts and there’s more commanders, recognizable by the color and stars on their shoulder pads. All genders, all ages, all from across timelines current and forgotten and doomed. “... Officially disbanded. You are all to be stripped of your duties, and returned to your proper space time.” A multitude of voices speaks as one as Kiku blinks away tears at the deep pain behind his eyes as his vision goes dark. 

 

Kiku is accepted right of high school at several Ivy league schools. It’s what is expected of him, after all. His older brother set the bar impossibly high. But Kiku has loved nothing more than a challenge. 

But, he doesn’t want to go to college right away. So, he leaves decisions alone for a month and goes on a road trip across the states with his best friend Alfred. Their car breaks down somewhere south of Wisconsin in a small, barely on the map town. The local mechanic, a guy named Gil, tells them it’ll take 3 days for the necessary parts to come in. He tells them to room at the only hotel in town run by the (in a lower voice, with Gil drawing close for a dramatic effect) Russians. Kiku resists the urge to tell him that the cold war ended 20 years ago. 

The hotel is simply called Cornflower and it tugs at his heart as he looks at the simple signage as they enter the lobby. At the counter, there is a small, pale woman with hair like spun ivory tapping away on a 3DS. She doesn’t look up at them. 

But he knows her. He knows her so well. 

He died for her once, and he’d do it again, and she’s died for him so many, many times, and he knows that she would do it all again. 

The memories come and just as quickly go, and he’s just standing there, staring at her, with only her name on his lips. 

“Nikita?” 

She looks up at him, and smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is the most ambitious project I've done to date. I think it even surpasses The History of the World in Your Arms aka my super long AmeChu fic! 
> 
> BelaPan is such a good ship. 
> 
> I've been on a time travel kick lately. Here's some background info that didn't make it into the fic proper. 
> 
> Feli joins the German Brothers aka Ludwig and Gilbert and that's why he gets on the wanted list. Aurelia can't abandon him so she ends up dying when Feli and the others get caught. Ludwig broke the rules by trying to keep Gilbert from dying and that's why they're wanted. 
> 
> I left it vague on purpose what exactly Nikita did to cause the Temporal Protection Division to cease existing. 
> 
> They're not actually at the headquarters at the end but in a space time void. As they arrived they all... merged memories with their alternate selves. It's pretty cool. 
> 
> This fic could've been much longer, but I like where it is now.


End file.
